Adventures in Retrofitting

My first official cyclocross season came and went without amounting to much of anything.  I found a bike in September, just before the season’s first race.  Finding the bike had been a challenge of it’s own.  Let me put it this way: had there been a handful of cyclocross bikes to choose from, I may not have ended up with the one I’m riding.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great bike, but it’s mine simply because there wasn’t another choice.  There just aren’t many bikes available in the small size I ride, which is probably fodder for another blog post.  Nevertheless, I finished a couple of races and then experienced a series of flats which resulted in a few DNF’s (Did Not Finish).

Since I had only one wheel set, I very quickly found myself in a place where I needed to make some changes to said wheel set in order to get back into the races AND finish.  The choices were 1. to use a conversion kit on the stock wheels that would result in a tubeless setup or 2. to upgrade the wheel set to a tubeless ready system.  In other words, choice 1 costs around $80 and choice 2 closer to $500 and up.  Since I wasn’t sure how long I would keep the bike, I decided to go with choice 1 and consider choice 2 next year after I had a few more races under my belt and a better sense of whether I wanted to keep the bike.

After doing some web searching, watching videos, and reading step-by-step instructions, I was confident in my (husband’s) ability to successfully complete the conversion under my supervision*.  The Stan’s No Tubes web site even states “Converting requires very little mechanical ability but it is important to follow the Instructions.”  I was confident that even a non-bike mechanic gal like myself could supervise this project flawlessly.

I purchased the cyclocross conversion kit.   The process of cleaning the wheel, drilling the valve hole, and applying the rim tape was easy enough.  The problem we encountered was that the rim was chewed up enough to leave a gap large enough that the rim tape, tire, and sealant combined weren’t enough to close that gap.  Yes, we tried the compressor.  It resulted in a shower of Stan’s sealant all over a friend’s garage before we finally gave up.  Here’s an image of the rim to give you an idea of the kind of ding that prevented this conversion from working.

IMG_4846

I wish the very thorough instructions and videos on the Stan’s web site would have mentioned that your rims need to be ding free in order to work with the conversion kit.  Unfortunately for me, the conversion kit was a failure and waste of money.  On the bright side, I have a sweet new wheel set on a bike I may or may not keep and another wheel set that is very likely to become wall art. I’d say everyone won in this case!

*Disclaimer:  I’m not a bike mechanic.  I don’t even play one on TV.  But I do have a very handy husband who helped me with the conversion.

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The Joyride

Spring riding can be so elusive with Colorado’s wild spring weather.  The last couple of days had been warm enough to melt some of the 18 inches of snow that had fallen nearly two weeks before; during that time, I’d spent more time on the trainer than I like to.  I had been out each afternoon this week doing intervals at Lookout Mountain in anticipation of the hill climb coming up Saturday.  As I sipped my morning coffee and contemplated riding into work, I heard the birds chirping outside and didn’t see a cloud in the sky once the sun came up.  I decided it would be a good day to ride – perhaps a bit chilly on the way in, but the ride would be worth it, especially on the way home when it was warmer.   I froze just enough to build a little character on the way into the office.

When it came time to ride home, I decided to take a different route just to add on some additional miles and be in the sunshine a little longer.   I needed a joy ride!  As I pedaled along, I saw lots of other cyclists, dog walkers, and runners out enjoying the sun just like I was.  I said hello or waved to everyone I encountered, just like I do on every other ride.  Sometimes I get a return wave, but most of the time I don’t get any response.

As I turned from the Ralston Creek Trail onto Virgil Way, my chain became tangled as I shifted from the big ring to small.  I was unable to take a single pedal stroke as I began to pedal up the hill and quickly came to a stop.  Here’s what I saw upon inspection:

An attempt to downshift resulted in this tangled mess.

An attempt to downshift resulted in this tangled mess.

Fiddle as I might, I could not get the chain unstuck.  During the few minutes that I was kneeled in the grass alongside the road with my bike upside down, three cyclists pedaled by ~ 2 men, 1 woman.  Not one of them said a single word or paused their pedal stroke as they went by to inquire whether I needed or wanted any assistance.  That annoyed me more than the fact that I might be walking home in my Sidi’s.  So much for my joyride… and just when I had been contemplating which detour to take next.

As I mentioned before, I’m the kind of cyclist who greets and waves to other cyclists that I encounter on my ride.  I make a point of slowing and interacting with cyclists that are stopped along the roadside dealing with an obvious problem, especially if it’s a woman.  Most of the time I simply confirm that they have the tools they need for the job, but on occasion I’ve provided assistance.  At the very least, I can offer moral support or to make a phone call if I’m unable to help.

Clearly the standards I hold for myself are not shared by every cyclist.  As I started the long walk home, another cyclist pedaled by without a word.  Then my phone rang.  I got lucky that my husband (AKA Mr. Fixit) was nearby and able to come and pick me up.  When he arrived, he was able to untangle the chain so I could resume the joyride home.

On my way home, I came upon a little Asian lady who was holding an empty dog leash in the air and looking distraught.  I slowed and circled back to her, remembering ALL the people who had ridden by me without a word.  Through her broken English, I understood that her little yellow dog had gotten away from her and was now missing.  She would sit on the curb and wait while I rode ahead in search of the little guy.  Instead of the dog, I came upon my neighbor who was heading in the opposite direction back toward the Asian lady.  I asked if he had seen the yellow dog in the direction he had come from.  He had not and agreed to tell the Asian woman when he came upon her sitting on the curb.  I turned around and continued my joyride home.

Whether you decide to help another person clearly in need speaks volumes about the character of your person.  More importantly, I’m a firm believer that you get back what you put out there in the universe.  So I’ll continue to smile, wave, and offer help to those in need, even those that choose to ignore me.  It’s just the way I roll, even on this joyride.

What’s that Noise??

I was out for a ride on July 6th on my Cannondale SuperSix Evo, when I began to hear a clicking noise emanating from the bottom bracket.  I recorded this video:  and sent it to my personal mechanic for his input.  After watching the video and doing some online research, his conclusion was that the bearings in the bottom bracket were going bad and would need to be replaced.  Having just gotten the bike in January (less than 6 months ago), we were shocked that bearing replacement would be necessary already.

The next day I went out and turned the cranks on the bike and there wasn’t any clicking.  So I decided to go for a ride.  25 miles later, I returned home without any clicking from the bottom bracket.   On each ride that week, the clicking would sporadically appear and disappear.  I finally decided that I needed to get the bike in to Treads for service.  When I called, they were unable to fit my bike in until the following Monday.  This was unfortunate because I was riding in the Triple Bypass on Saturday.  I went ahead and scheduled the appointment and decided to take my chances on riding the Triple Bypass.  The worst case scenario would be listening to that clicking for 120 miles… but because the clicking had been so sporadic all week, it was possible that it would not make any noise at all.  Fingers crossed!!

On the morning of Saturday, July 12th, I began the Triple Bypass in Bergen Park on Squaw Pass Road.  As I pedaled along, the only noises coming from my bike were the occasional sounds of shifting and the normal noise the chain makes as it moves along the cogs.  However, after remounting at the first Aid Station at the top of Squaw Pass, I heard a couple of clicks as I pedaled away.  I began the descent into Idaho Springs shortly thereafter and hoped that by the time I got to the bottom, the noise would resolve itself.  This was not the case.  As it became necessary to begin pedaling after the descent, the clicking continued to get worse; eventually it became more of a grinding noise.

The silver lining to having my bike make this noise was that I no longer needed to announce to anyone that I was “on their left.”  In fact, I had a few people actually begin to look around in bewilderment as I approached.  I was told on more than one occasion as I passed that they thought the noise was coming from their own bike.  How I wished that were the case.  That noise went on for 90 miles.  90!!!!  I had people make jokes about it as I went by, others just shook their heads in dismay.  Still others were certain that they knew just what was wrong with my bike.  One person suggested that I get off and check my cadence sensor because her bike once made the “exact” same noise and that’s what it was.  Another suggested I had a stowaway cricket.  My favorite was that I just needed to lube that chain!

The wonderful mechanics at Treads had my bike back to me within a couple of days.  The issue, you ask?  It was indeed the bearings in the bottom bracket and not the cadence sensor, not the chain in need of lube, and not a cricket.